


finding home

by viccristak



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12695874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viccristak/pseuds/viccristak
Summary: They fight like all siblings do but Angela wouldn’t change him for the world, and when they lose their parents to the Omnic War at 10 years old, she thanks the Gods she doesn’t believe in for at least letting her keep her brother.OrAU where Concept!Mercy is Angela's adopted brother.





	finding home

**Author's Note:**

> i saw [that concept mercy art](https://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/t_original/isdjiz2nrjcencbl3zde.jpg) and i got inspired to write a lil something, which turned into basically a study of Angela's life, which turned into this giant monster. idk. enjoy.  
> (my OW lore is a bit small, so i'm sorry for any mistakes. i hope the dates and everything aren't too confusing.)

Her parents adopt Angelo three months before she is born. They will explain to her – to  _them_  – when they’re older that the process of adoption is long one, and they had planned to adopt long before their mother got pregnant. Angela’s 8 year old mind doesn’t care, not really. At such a young age already surrounded by death and war, she’s come to accept that Angelo and her parents are the only constants she can count on.

Angelo has black skin and dark hair, and there seems to be a permanent smile on his face. It is quite the contrast, to see the siblings together, for Angela tends to be quiet, more reserved. Angelo is a people person, a hard worker as much as his sister is, but much more social for sure. He assures Angela everyday that despite the friends he’s got at school, she’s his best friend in the whole world. She secretly feels relieved.

They fight like all siblings do but Angela wouldn’t change him for the world, and when they lose their parents to the Omnic War at 10 years old, she thanks the Gods she doesn’t believe in for at least letting her keep her brother. They are sent together to a school for gifted children and  _damn_ , Angela thinks,  _what are the odds?_ She relishes in the fact that they won’t be separated.

Later, they get into med school; there is an ache in their hearts after their parents’ death that begs to be healed. They think, perhaps, saving people’s lives is a step on the right direction. They graduate way too early, way too young. At only 16, they end up working at a hospital in Zürich. They don’t look for fame, but they become world-renowned surgeons after they make a breakthrough in nanobiology.

Angelo tries it on himself first, when it’s not entirely safe, and his hair becomes white for it. Angela yells at him and doesn’t speak to him for a whole two days, avoiding him in the hospital halls. When he manages to corner her, she cries into his chest.

“You cannot take risks like that, Ange,” she says. “I can’t lose you too.”

He squeezes her tighter against him, whispering promises he’s not sure he can keep into her hair.

_2056._

They are 17, and Overwatch is saving the world. The TV talks of them as if they were heroes. Angela thinks it’s bullshit, because she still loses at least a patient every week.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” Angelo tells her, during their lunch break at the hospital.

Angela frowns. “They’re a military force.”

Angelo finally stops looking at the TV. He gives her a confused look. “Yeah, and they’re saving lives.”

“So are we,” she retorts.

“But the fight is out there, Angie,” he says.

She sighs into her food. She does  _not_ want to have this argument again. They agree on most things, but on this they see differently. This topic is a sore point for them, so she’s not sure why her brother even brought it up in the first place. Angelo itches to go out in the field, heal people all over the world, help real soldiers battle evil. When Angela looks at the news, she only sees violence against violence fighting an endless war.

“We’ve talked about this, Angelo.”

Now he’s the one frowning. He stabs at his food annoyed. “Yes, and I still hate being stuck at this damn hospital.”

“We managed to improve and save a lot of lives here,” she responds, annoyed now, too.

He’s about to reply when a nurse – Mara – whom they’re both familiar with, comes into the room. She smiles politely at them.

“There is someone who wants to see you both.”

They look at each other confused, their argument momentarily forgotten.

Not five seconds pass before another figure enters the room, giving Mara a polite nod before the nurse leaves. Angela feels her brother take a sharp intake of breath. Despite herself, Angela finds herself immediately impressed.

For some reason Angela cannot figure out, Ana Amari, second in command of Overwatch, stands before them. She has the blue, official uniform on and her presence is strikingly intimidating. Angelo stands up and Angela does, too, out of instinct. The older woman looks at them with a faint, barely there smile.

“Good afternoon,” she says in an accented English. “I am Captain Ana Amari,” she unnecessarily introduces herself, extending a hand out to them.

Angelo immediately steps up. “I know who you are!” he says. Ana raises a sharp eyebrow at his enthusiasm. “I mean, I admire the work you do in Overwatch, ma’am.”

Ana waves the hand he just shook dismissively. “Please, just Ana.”

Angela doesn’t say anything, but she shakes her hand as well.

“Well, I admire  _your_  work,” the woman tells them. Now _that_  catches Angela’s attention. “It is truly outstanding everything you have accomplished at such a young age.”

Angela flushes a bit and looks down, always embarrassed when people compliment their work. But Angelo grins boyishly, the surprise at seeing one of the people he looks up to completely gone now.

“It is mostly just Angela here, I assure you,” he says, teasing. He even puts an arm around her shoulders.

Angela perks up at that and mockingly glares at him. “No, it is not.”

Ana gives a short laugh at their banter. Angelo’s smile turns bigger.

“Either way,” the Egyptian says, “I know it’s something you did together. That is why I am here.”

Both siblings look at her questioningly.

“I am here on official Overwatch business,” she explains. “We would love to have such brilliant minds in our ranks.”

Angela turns her head to look at her brother so fast that she swears she feels some of the bones in her neck crack. Angelo is actually gaping, staring at Ana with absolute shock.

“What?” Angela asks, having obviously found her voice before her awe-struck brother.

“You heard me,” answers Ana.

 She raises a defiant eyebrow, almost as if she  _knew_  already what Angela thinks of the organization.

“It would be an honour,” Angelo says.

“Absolutely not!” exclaims Angela. Ana does not bat an eye at her sudden outburst. “We are  _not_  joining Overwatch, Angelo.”

Angelo turns to look at her. “Angie, think about it! We could do so much.”

Ana interrupts their argument before it can even get heated. “You don’t have to decide now,” she tells them. “I know it’s a hard decision. But your brother’s right,” she looks at Angela, “we have advanced technology and the best people at our disposal. That, along with your minds? We could work miracles.”

Captain Amari leaves, and it takes Angelo three weeks – even if Overwatch does invite them over to visit the Swiss HQ during that time – to convince Angela to join, but she finally relents. After all, Angelo is home, and whenever he goes, she will follow.

_2057._

Having been in Overwatch for more than a year, Angela has to admit that yes, her brother was right, and yes, they have managed to accomplish so much during their time in the organization. She and her brother developed two special suits for them when they go out in the field with the help of the head engineer, Torbjörn. The Swedish man can be a bit of a handful, with his loud enthusiasm, but Angela does hold affection for him after working together for so long.

She sighs, standing up from her chair in the medbay. It must be about 3, and she hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Her stomach rumbles at the thought.

She walks the halls of the HQ, passing a few familiar faces on the way. As expected, Angelo fit right in with everyone, making friends the very first day. For Angela, it took some time to accept the fact that it was not only her and Angelo now. She got along with agent Mei incredibly well, but Angela was disappointed to find out that the woman was working at another watchpoint in Antarctica, and her visit was only temporary. She’s thankful, though, that after almost two years she  _does_ have friends – apart from her brother – in Overwatch. Angelo even calls them family, but she’s not sure she’d go as far as that yet.

She has to pass by the common area to get to the kitchen, and she hears Angelo’s loud, familiar laugh on her way. Curious, she peeks her head out the door, looking in on the room.

The room is completely white, with a huge picture window that looks out into the city of Zürich. There is a TV screen with some sofas around it, some board games, a few big tables and lots of chairs.

Her brother is currently grinning from ear to ear, observing Jesse and a teenager Angela hasn’t seen before play chess.

“Checkmate,” says Jesse, tipping his hat for good measure. Angela wonders everyday why on earth he wears it.

The girl in front of him huffs in frustration. Her dark skin and eyes are incredibly familiar and when Angela looks at her more clearly, she realises with a start that it is, in fact, Captain Amari’s kid.  _Fareeha._ Of course. Angelo has talked about her a few times. She came to base for the first time since they have joined a few weeks ago. Angela hasn’t had a chance to meet her; she’s been more immersed in her research than she usually is the past few months.

She’s about to leave when Angelo catches her eye. His face lights up (even more than it already was) and he immediately beckons her closer. Angela bites her lip. She is  _really_  hungry, but she guesses she can humour her brother for a short while.

“You’ve won the last two games,” Fareeha says as Angela is approaching. “You must be cheating! I always win against Gabe.”

Jesse laughs. “That’s because he lets you win, kid.”

“He does not!”, she responds, offended. Jesse leans in to ruffle her hair and she pushes his hands off with another huff.

By now, they all have noticed Angela. Fareeha looks at her curiously and Jesse grins at her and shhe notices that he’s wearing his Blackwatch uniform.  _Of course_. He has just come back from a mission. As soon as that thought comes to her, she frowns.

“Jesse, shouldn’t you have come by the medbay to get a check-up?” she says as a greeting.

“Geez, gimme a break, doc,” he answers, but his smile does not falter.

Before she can retort, her brother stands up.

“This overkill right here is the sister I have told you so much about, Fareeha,” he says.

“I’m literally just doing my job, Ange,” she says, rolling her eyes. She looks at Fareeha, who’s already been watching her, and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Fareeha is now standing up as well. She must be thirteen or fourteen, Angela guesses, but she’s already almost as tall as her. She extends a hand to the doctor and she takes it gladly, still grinning.

“Angelo always says you’re the better sibling,” she finally says. There’s a smile on her face, too.

“Ain’t that right,” adds Jesse.

It earns him a playful smack on the back of the head from Angelo, to which he yelps in surprise. His hat tumbles down from his head, and he mock glares at Angela’s smirking brother. She is glad Jesse is with them. They don’t do many missions together, since he’s part of Blackwatch (and also, the siblings haven’t been cleared to do real field missions yet because of their currently still in development suit), but he’s one of the few agents who’s their age, and it makes Angela feel as young as she actually is.

Jesse hits Angelo back, as was expected, and Fareeha and Angela watch them go at it amusedly for a few seconds until they hear a throat being cleared. All four of them turn their heads to the door to see Ana, eyebrow raised, leaning on the doorway.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the Blackwatch debrief meeting, agent McCree?”

Jesse’s whole stance straights up. He clutches his hat to his chest, having grabbed it from the floor, and Angela fights hard to hold back a laugh at how he is  _never_ intimidated except when Ana is nearby. Not even Gabriel can stop his playful attitude.

“Yes ma’am, I’m heading there right away,” he says.

He waves all of them off, bowing exaggeratedly to Ana when he passes her (okay, maybe  _none_  can really tame that side of him). The older woman simply shakes her head.

“Habibti, don’t forget about our sparring session at 5,” she says to Fareeha. The teenager hums an agreement. “And,” she adds, her gaze passing to Angelo and Angela, “I expect a full medical report on the Blackwatch agents by midnight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they answer in unison.

“Don’t give your mum a hard time during training or we’ll have extra work to do,” adds Angelo teasingly before Ana can leave. The woman in question raises her eyebrows.

Fareeha rolls her eyes. “We don’t even fight, not really.”

Ana’s face turns stern. “You know why that is, Fareeha.”

“Yes, ami,” the girl mumbles a response.

Ana stares at her daughter for a few seconds before she finally leaves. Angela notices Fareeha’s mood dangerously becoming sour, so she speaks up.

“I have to go get some food, but how about you play a game of chess against me?”

Fareeha looks positively delighted at the proposition. Angela hears her brother laugh and she turns her gaze to him questioningly.

“Now you’re for sure gonna win, kid,” he says.

“Hey now!” Angela protests, partly offended.

“We used to play all the time, and you always lost, Angie.”

His brother’s gaze is softer now and Angela knows why. She feels a brief ache in her heart, remembering that chess was their mother’s favourite board game. It was kind of a family tradition to have a chess tournament at the Ziegler household every Sunday. Their parents let them win, of course, but when it came down to the two siblings, Angelo came out on top most of the time. The few times he didn’t was when Angela was having a particularly dreadful day. Her brother probably still thinks he was very subtle, but of course she noticed he only lost to cheer her up.

She inhales deeply and briefly squeezes Angelo’s hand. She feels her brother squeeze back before a voice interrupts her thoughts.

“I think I will get something to eat, too,” says Fareeha, standing up. “And then we can play!”

And she runs off with the enthusiasm of thirteen year old. Angela smiles.

“We better not keep her waiting.”

“Yeah, and we better get some food in your system before you collapse,” her brother quips, poking her stomach for emphasis.

Angela has the decency to blush. “I lost track of time!”

They walk to the kitchen together and Angelo puts an arm around Angela’s shoulders. Their height difference is astoundingly big (Angelo loves to tease her about it).

“Thank God you have me as your personal medic, Doctor Ziegler,” he says, grinning.

Angela rolls her eyes and tries unsuccessfully to push him off, and they fall silent for the rest of the walk.

 _Yeah,_ Angela thinks, much later, when she observes Angelo tease some of the new – even younger than them – recruits at dinner,  _thank God I have you._

_2060._

Angela is fuming. Her brother, sitting next to her, is equally furious, but he was always better at hiding it.

She takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm down before she talks. They’re in the meeting room and all her superiors are there: Jack, Ana and Gabriel stare silently – for the moment – at the argument going on.

“Absolutely not,” Angela finally says.

The woman she’s currently arguing with glares at her. Moira O’Deorain is Angelo and Angela’s relatively new, but they never got along with her, nor she with them. Her methods are unethical, to say the least, and Angela is glad Overwatch has put a stop to them so far.

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Moira says.

Angela clenches her fists. She’s getting riled up again and is about to yell at her when Angelo puts his hand on her clenched fist. She relaxes.

“We’re talking about someone’s  _life_ ,” her brother says. Angela admires how calmly he manages to talk, when she knows the situation aggravates him as much as her. “We can save Genji. We will. But we are not putting in his DNA whatever  _improvement_  you have thought of. It’s a huge risk.”

“A risk worth taking. It will make him powerful. And useful.”

“We know Genji is already a skilled warrior. We are  _not_  altering his body more than it is necessary,” Angelo insists, not backing down. His hand is still on Angela’s.

“If you think I’m going to let two  _kids_  tell me how to do my job-“

“That’s enough,” interrupts Ana. The three scientists fall silent and look over at her superior. Ana shares a look with Jack, who nods mutely, and then: “We’re wasting time. Angelo, Angela, you’re dismissed. Start the surgery on Genji immediately. Do what you must.”

Both siblings stand up, relieved. Moira looks incredibly angry, her face twisted in a frown. She is about to leave with Angelo and Angela when Jack speaks up.

“We didn’t give you permission to leave, Doctor O’Deorain.”

The Irish woman freezes. Angela would have smiled at the tiny victory, but her thoughts are too preoccupied with the body currently laying in the surgery table. She faintly hears Gabriel’s voice before she rushes off with Angelo.

“Let’s hear about this idea of yours.”

 

***

She looks at her brother sitting on his desk, staring dumbly at his bloodied hands. Genji’s surgery had been exhausting; both physically and emotionally. Standing up for a whole fourteen hours trying to fix a broken body can do that to you.

Angela is about to put a comforting hand on Angelo’s shoulder, but then she realises her hands are bloody, too.

“Ange,” she says softly, “let’s get cleaned up and sleep. It’s late.”

Her brother looks up at her. He looks as numb as she feels. His watery eyes startle Angela, though, and she has to look away to fight back her own tears.

“Did we do the right thing, Angie?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t know,” she answers truthfully through the lump in her throat.

She finally coaxes him to stand up, dirtying his lab coat with blood in the process. He doesn’t seem to mind. They walk slowly to Angela’s quarters. They pass by Jesse, who looks at them with concern. Angela shakes her head and Angelo makes a “later” gesture with his hands. The other man nods and leaves them alone.

Later, when they’re sitting in Angela’s bed, clean of all blood, eating Swiss chocolate but definitely not feeling better, Angela asks the questions that’s been plaguing her mind since they finished the surgery.

“We saved a life today, didn’t we?”

Angelo inhales deeply through his nose and nods once as an answer. Angela sighs.

(Seeing Genji for the next few years, a desperate man with a broken soul in a body that doesn’t belong to him, not really, feels like torture.)

_2065._

“I can’t believe it’s been almost ten years since we met, doc.”

Angela hums in agreement to Jesse’s comment, taking a sip of her coffee. She’s exhausted and the bags under her eyes say as much. She was up for most of the night along with Torbjorn, fixing her Valkyrie suit after a particularly rough mission. She should be sleeping, but her body will not let her. She has nightmares almost every night, and it’s getting harder to get a good night’s sleep. She sighs.

“Angela? Are you even listening to me?”

She realises with a start that her friend had kept talking while her mind was reaching dangerous thoughts.

“Sorry, Jesse,” she says. “I’m tired.”

Jesse scoffs. “I can tell.” He receives a glare in return, and he raises his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, maybe you should take a sleepin’ pill or something, for the nightmares.”

He’s not wrong, but she rolls her eyes anyway. “I thought the doctor here was me.”

“So did I,” he says without missing a beat.

“Touché,” she answers, because she can admit defeat. Jesse grins.

They continue to eat their breakfast in silence, with the occasional comment here or there. Angela is thankful for the early quiet morning, as much as she wishes she was sleeping. It also means Angelo is still probably asleep and as much as she loves her brother, him and Jesse are a deadly combination she doesn’t feel like dealing with right now.

Her calm stance is broken by a loud crash coming from the door. Jesse and her both turn at the same time, and Angela finds herself looking at a young girl who’s sheepishly rubbing the back of her head. Angela notices that there’s a broken cup by her feet.

“Blimey!” the girl says, in a clear British accent. Her high-pitched voice makes Angela’s sleep-deprived body cringe instinctively. “I’m so sorry, I’m so clumsy.”

“No worries, darling,” says Jesse. He does not move to help, though.

Angela takes pity on the girl and helps her pick up the broken pieces off the floor. She smiles at her gratefully.

“Thank you so much, love,” she says after they’re done cleaning. “Name’s Lena Oxton! Newest Overwatch pilot, at your service,” she finally introduces herself. Looking at her more closely, Angela sees that she’s in fact wearing the official uniform.

Angela introduces herself as they walk to where she was sitting with Jesse. She watches Lena interact with her friend and Angela realises how young the girl actually is. She guesses she’s about sixteen, and the doctor suddenly feels sad at the thought. Lena’s bubbly personality reminds her of Angelo’s easy-going nature, and she hopes that the teenager’s spirit is strong enough to endure what Overwatch truly offers.

***

“You’re not as young as you used to be, you need to be more careful,” she says to Reinhardt, as she finishes patching his arm up. Angelo works on Jack a few feet away from them.

Reinhardt pats her on the back and she loses her balance for a bit, but not enough to make her fall.

“I have armour to protect me, I will be fine!” His booming voice echoes all over the medbay. She can almost feel the strike commander roll his eyes on the other side of the room. “And if not, I have you to make me better.”

“That confidence makes soldiers lose battles.”

“It also makes them win wars,” he retorts.

Angela doesn’t answer, instead letting him step down from the examination table. She checks his arm one more time for good measure before nodding to herself.

“Try not to move that arm too much.”

“Angela! I was about to meet with Fareeha in the gym,” he complains. She’s amazed by the childish tone his old voice carries.

“Just for today then, Reinhardt,” she says, patting his arm affectionately. “Fareeha will be here for the whole week.”

And Angela is glad. She hasn’t seen the girl – woman now, she corrects herself – for a few years. Ana’s daughter had been in Canada, with her father, finishing up a degree in Engineering. She and Angelo and all the agents in base had been keeping tabs on her, talking sporadically, but Angela admits she hasn’t spoken to her as much as she would have liked to. She hasn’t had the chance to meet with her yet, but the thought excites her.

“Fine, fine,” the large man reluctantly agrees with her, much to her relief. “I will take it easy for today. Thanks, Angela.”

There’s a genuine smile on his face that warms Angela’s insides. He was always good at making her feel like she’s home.

“Come on then,” she says, “let’s go see Fareeha.”

Reinhardt’s eyes light up at her suggestion, agreeing immediately. They bid goodbye to Angelo, who’s still focused on a deep gash on Jack’s leg. Angelo waves at them and they receive a curt nod from the strike commander.

The walk to the gym is full of Reinhardt’s booming laugh and Angela’s quiet chuckles. She feels herself drifting further and further away from Overwatch lately, but moments like these help her anchor herself (she doesn’t know if it’s enough, though).

When they reach the gym, they are greeted by a rather pleasing sight, if Angela has anything to say about it. Fareeha is there, talking and smiling among a few recruits the doctor is familiar with. There is a thin layer of sweat covering her tan skin and it is clear she has been working out. Her abs are in full display because of the sports bra she’s wearing and Angela notes that she’s tall; taller than she remembers. In fact, she is sure she’s as tall as Angelo now. She’s a woman in every sense of the word. As Reinhardt and Angela approach her, Fareeha laughs, and Angela shamelessly stares at how her abs tense with the movement. She feels her face heat up.

“Fareeha!”

Fareeha turns her head to look at them. Reinhardt has his huge arms open as an invitation. She raises her eyebrows at him, pointing at her sweaty body. He simply shakes his head and pulls her in anyway, laughing along when she does. When they separate, Fareeha looks at Angela.

“Doctor Ziegler,” she says formally. “It is nice to see you.”

Angela doesn’t go in for a hug, but only because her face, now back to her normal pale complexion – thankfully – would probably go red again and she doesn’t want to embarrass herself.  _Get a grip_ , she tells herself. She vaguely remembers that it’s been a long time since she’s even had a date.

“Since when am I Doctor Ziegler? Just Angela, as always, please.” Fareeha flushes a bit. “It’s nice to see you too, Fareeha. I want to hear all about Canada!” adds Angela.

“Yes, yes!” jumps in Reinhardt, putting his arms around both women easily. “What mischief did you get yourself into over there I wonder, hm?”

Fareeha laughs. “Let me shower first. I will meet you all at dinner.”

Angela can’t wait.

***

Angela muses over the pleasant dinner out in one of the many balconies of the Swiss HQ. The meal had been full of laughs and funny anecdotes, not only from Fareeha, but also from Lena and Winston, who happened to be visiting the base as well. Angela thinks it is a shame they’re stationed in London, though Lena’s cheerfulness overwhelms her sometimes.

The dining hall had been unusually full, since everyone knew Fareeha had come in today. Ana had sat next to her daughter, but Angela finds herself frowning when she remembers the subtle tension between both. She faintly wonders what it was about before her thoughts wander inevitably to her future.

The Omnic Crisis is long over, and  _yes,_ they still help people but Angela feels like she doesn’t belong in Overwatch anymore. Thankfully, Moira had been kicked out the year before, but that only helped aggravate the rivalry between Jack and Gabriel. Angela was surprised when she found out about their sudden hatred for each other, but a conversation with Ana taught her that it had always been there. She has talked about leaving with Angelo, and he agrees that things aren’t the same, but they haven’t decided on anything yet. She has insisted time and time again that he doesn’t have to come with her if she decides to leave, but he always waves her concerns away.

She sighs. Despite herself, Overwatch had become her life, her  _family._ How is she supposed to simply walk away?

Her dark thoughts are interrupted by the sound of steps behind her. She turns around to find herself face to face with Fareeha. She smiles, and the other woman returns it.

“Hey,” she says as a greeting. Angela hums in acknowledgement. “You look deep in thought.”

Angela turns her gaze back at the city. “I was, until someone distracted me,” she teases.

“My apologies,” says Fareeha, without a trace of regret. “Are you alright, though?”

Angela smiles at the clear concern in her voice and nods. They are content to enjoy the view in silence until Angela decides to speak up.

“I’m glad you enjoyed your time in Canada,” she tells Fareeha genuinely. “What are you planning on doing now?”

Fareeha bites her lip. Angela knows she has always wanted to be part of Overwatch since she was a little kid, but she thinks perhaps the years with her father have changed her mind and of course, there is also the issue of Ana’s clear wishes of her daughter not following in her footsteps. Angela can understand that.

“Well, I…” she starts. Angela notes with surprise that she seems nervous. “I’m going to join the army in Egypt, actually.”

Angela can’t help the way her eyes widen at the admission and she chastises herself internally when it makes Fareeha frown and lower her head. She’s about to talk, but she sees Fareeha inhale deeply and she senses the woman isn’t done.

“I just want to help people, you know?” Angela nods, because she does know. “And I can’t just join Overwatch. There’s no way my mother will let that happen.”

“I can’t imagine she’s too happy about you joining the army either, though,” says Angela before she can stop herself.

Fareeha doesn’t seem to mind the slip. “Yeah, she’s not. But I’m my own person, as much as that may bother her.”

“That you are. You know she's still proud of you, don't you?” Angela frowns at Fareeha’s scoff of disbelief. “What? It’s true, Fareeha. You’ve always been all she talks about since I know her.”

“I guess,” mumbles Fareeha self-consciously.

“You shouldn’t second guess yourself so much. You’re going to do great things, I’m sure,” Angela tries to reassure her.

Fareeha manages a faint smile at the attempt, but Angela’s not too confident she believes her words. “Thank you,” she says genuinely, anyway.

There is a brief silence before Fareeha breaks it.

“What are you out here for?”

Angela debates whether to tell her or not, but there’s something in Fareeha’s soft look that compels her to pour her heart out.

“Angelo and I, well, we’ve been thinking about leaving.”

Fareeha frowns. “Leaving? Like being stationed somewhere else?”

“No,” Angela shakes her head. “Leaving Overwatch. For good.”

Fareeha lets out a surprised  _oh_ at the confession. There’s a short pause in which Angela wonders what she’s thinking about, until finally the younger woman answers her.

“I know things have been tense lately.”

Angela sighs. “You could say that.” She runs a hand through her hair, suddenly frustrated. “It’s become annoying, to say the least. Not everyone is like that, of course, but having Jack and Gabriel fight constantly is getting old. I can’t even imagine how Ana manages.”

“Barely,” answers Fareeha. “She’s talked to me about it. She’s getting tired, too, but she wants to keep fighting.”

“And that’s the thing,” says Angela, “Angelo and I  _want_ to keep helping people. Once, we were sure there was no place better to do that than in Overwatch. But I don’t know how true that is anymore.”

Fareeha nods in understanding. Angela notices that they’ve gotten closer during their conversations, their shoulders brushing. She guesses that’s why she hasn’t felt the cold in a while, despite the late, chilly night.

“Have I ever told you about my first time meeting Jesse?” says Fareeha suddenly, smirk on her face. Her brown eyes dance with mirth and Angela is immediately interested.

The conversation turns light-hearted after that and Angela is thankful. After more than a few anecdotes, they reluctantly bid each other goodnight. Angela walks to her quarters with a smile impossibly large, her stomach pleasantly aching from all the laughing. She guesses she needed that.

At the end of the week, after more nights spent talking like that with Fareeha, Angela’s goodbye tastes bitter in her mouth. She hugs Fareeha tight, unspoken words rising in her throat that she forces herself to hold back. The what ifs she sees in Fareeha’s eyes mirror her own, but they don’t dare say anything and Angela will spend endless nights thinking about it, until she convinces herself it’s not there anymore.

_2068._

Angela feels her brother squeeze her hand. The comforting touch makes her sob harder into her hand and Angelo opts for putting his arms around her in a side embrace instead.  She inhales deeply, willing herself to calm down. Angela has lost many comrades and friends during her time in Overwatch and it  _hurt,_ but nothing comes close to what she’s feeling now, burying Ana Amari, refusing to accept the fate of the woman. She thinks that letting go of Gerard was perhaps as painful, though.

Fareeha stands directly in front of her and Angela’s heart breaks at the sight. Reinhardt has his arm around her shoulders, crying openly, while the younger woman stares numbly ahead. She can see her hands, clenched into fists to stop them from shaking.

How could they allow this to happen? Angela remembers hearing about the news from a teary-eyed Jack, the pain being numbed by momentary surprise at finding out Ana’s murderer was actually Amelie Lacroix. Sweet, kind Amelie, who wasn’t only Gerard’s wife but Angela’s friend. She hides her face in Angelo’s chest, her body wracked with violent sobs now. She feels Angelo place a kiss on top of her hair.

She doesn’t speak to Fareeha that day, even though it had been years since they’d seen each other in person. The younger woman leaves before anyone else does and Angela lets her have her space.

A year later, after the King’s Row uprising, Angela and Angelo leave Overwatch; the tension between Jack and Gabriel proves to be too much to handle, and the continuous rumours that surround the organization do not help.

Angela isn’t surprised when Blackwatch is uncovered and Overwatch suffers for it. She is heartbroken, though, when she finds out about how the Swiss HQ fell. She buries Jack and Gabriel with a heavy heart, filled with the same pain she had felt at Ana’s death. Fareeha does not come to either of the funerals and Angela cannot blame her.

She and Angelo travel the world, saving lives, bringing hope, and she tells herself it’s enough despite the empty hole in her heart she can feel everyday.

_2074._

“Don’t forget to call next week to wish Brigitte a happy birthday!”

Angela stares amusedly at the screen, Torbjörn’s face trying to appear intimidating but failing miserably. He notices the faint smile on the doctor’s face, and he huffs in annoyance.

“Just tell that brother of yours, too. I don’t know what’s so important he can’t see me.”

“He’s in a meeting, I told you,” Angela answers. She chuckles at Torbjörn’s expected sound of protest. “He’ll be here next time.”

“He better,” the man says, pointing his prosthetic hand at Angela for emphasis.

After more catching up, Angela hangs up, her mood immediately lifted. She’s thankful everyday that she and Angelo managed to stay in touch with Torbjörn despite the man’s busy family life; he was a dear friend to them in Overwatch, a source of support, and she wouldn’t have liked to lose him, too.

Angela takes off her Medic Without Borders coat, the dry, hot Egyptian weather hitting her all of the sudden. She stretches, wincing at how her back aches at the movement. Her body is tired of sleeping in the temporary barracks made for the medical staff, right in the middle of the city.

She lets herself relax, basking in the unusual quiet. She’s glad Angelo volunteered to go to the meeting. He and a few of their colleagues are currently speaking to the Helix Security International soldiers, the private firm the organization had hired to protect the medics for the next few months. Angela just cannot be bothered with high-ranked military officials right now.

Suddenly, Angelo’s enthusiastic call of her name just outside of the tent startles her. She frowns, confused, but not worried, for Angelo’s excited tone can only mean good things. She closes her laptop and stands from the chair where she skyped with Torbjörn. She hears the tent door flap open, and she turns around to see Angelo standing there with a smiley Fareeha next to him. She lets out a tiny gasp of surprise, not expecting to see the woman at all.

Fareeha bears a tattoo under her right eye that is similar to the one Ana had, but not exactly the same. Braids, golden ornaments in place, frame her face. She’s wearing a tight, black short-sleeved shirt, dogtags sitting proudly around her neck. Angela is so happy to see her that she throws herself into her arms without thinking.

Fareeha stumbles back a bit in surprise, but she quickly recovers and puts her arms around Angela, returning the hug. When they break apart, Fareeha smiles down at her and Angela feels the sudden urge to touch the tattoo, but she resists it.

“Well, it is good to see you too, Angela,” says the soldier.

Angela realises that Fareeha still has her hands on the doctor’s waist, and she pulls away, clearing the throat embarrassingly. She thinks she sees a faint blush colour Fareeha’s cheeks.

(She ignores Angelo’s curious quirk of his brow).

“Let’s take a walk and catch up?”

Fareeha’s face lights up at the suggestion and her bright smile blinds Angela for a moment.

***

After a month working closely with HSI, it is clear to Angela that Fareeha’s squad is like her family. They respect her as their captain, of course, but they also trust her as their friend and confidant. And Angela knows the soldier would give her life for any of them with no hesitation (as much as it pains her to think of the woman sacrificing herself).

She and Angelo get along exceptionally well with the squad, which makes their work much easier (for both parties). Angela has countless good memories of eating late lunch with Tariq or playing poker – forced by Angelo most of the time – with Saleh and Aizad. Fareeha is in is most of them, too, because how could she not? The doctor curses herself everytime her heart beats faster whenever the soldier is nearby. Angelo has teasingly commented on it a few times, but Angela is trying to ignore it altogether.

Sitting with Angelo and Tariq at the mess hall of the temporary camp they have set up, she actually jumps when she feels hands suddenly grasp her shoulders. She hears Saleh’s distinctive laugh behind her and she turns just in time to see Fareeha smacking the back of his head. Saleh yelps in pain exaggeratedly, but his captain simply rolls her eyes, sitting down opposite Angela, next to Tariq. She gives the older woman a warm smile in greeting and Angela returns it.

“You’re so childish,” Talisha – the only other woman in the squad apart from Fareeha – says as she sits down next to Angela.

Saleh sits next to Tariq, smile still in place. “You love it.”

Talisha snorts, not bothering with an answer. Angela can see a faint smile on her lips, though.

The meal passes among pleasing conversation between the friends, until the topic somehow switches to Fareeha.

“I’m just saying you need to let loose some time,” Tariq’s saying.

Fareeha mumbles incoherently into her food and Angela takes pity on her. She thinks it’s fascinating how the soldier’s façade can change so dramatically off and on the field.

“What was that?” asks Saleh. Before Fareeha can answer, though, he goes on: “Nevermind. You just need to get laid, captain, if you ask me.”

Fareeha coughs, having been in the middle of drinking when her squadmate talked. The rest of the table looks amusingly at the flustered soldier.

“I didn’t ask, Saleh,” she finally says.

Saleh waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t care.”

“You know,” Angelo speaks up suddenly. “Angela has the same problem.”

Angela’s head whips around to her side to look at her brother. Everyone else is looking at him too now, questioningly.

“She needs to get laid and loosen up a bit, too.”

Angela groans loudly, hiding her face in her hands while the rest of the table laughs at her expense. She peeks a look through her fingers, seeing how Saleh stands up to clap her brother on the back from his side of the table. Then, her eyes catch Fareeha’s, who’s smiling sheepishly at her. She grins back, feeling her face heat up.

Angela feels like a total, foolish teenager, but she hasn’t been this happy in a long time.

***

Angela wakes up in a sweat, heart beating frantically in her chest. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. It’s been a while since any nightmares had plagued her dreams, so she supposes it was about time.

She knows Fareeha has the night shift tonight (for the first time since Helix has been with them), so when she gets up from her bed and leaves the tent, she is expecting to find the soldier posted outside.

“Angela,” Fareeha says, a look of surprise crossing her face. “What are you doing awake? It’s three am.”

“I can’t sleep,” says Angela, biting her lip.

“Oh,” the soldier responds, understanding. “Nightmares?”

Angela nods mutely.

“Why don’t you drink some tea? Ami always says it’s the best remedy for getting a good night’s rest.”

Angela smiles, remembering the many times Ana had chastised her younger self for staying up so late at night, always offering her some of her tea bags.

“Yes, I know. I would rather stay here and talk with you for a bit, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” agrees Fareeha easily.

“How come this is the first time you guys have the night shift? Some kind of captain’s privilege?”

Fareeha laughs. “No, nothing like that. Each week belongs to a squad, and mine just happened to be assigned to the last one of the month.”

Angela hums in acknowledgement. “And you just happened to get  _my_  tent assigned?” she asks, teasingly.

“Well, there are some things I  _do_  get to choose as a captain,” she answers, smirking, although there’s a faint blush on her cheeks.

Angela’s face warms up as well, but she smiles at the younger woman nonetheless. Looking up at her face, she wonders, not for the first time, the story behind her tattoo. Fareeha seems to notice her gaze.

“It’s the Eye of Horus,” she explains. “It reminds me I am a protector.”

Angela frowns, thinking about what little she knows on Egyptian mythology, the knowledge eventually coming back to her.

“Isn’t it supposed to protect you?”

Fareeha seems impressed. “Well, yes.”

“Of course you would turn it into a ‘I must protect the innocent’ sort of thing.”

“It is my duty,” says the soldier, somewhat sheepish under Angela’s soft look.

“I certainly hope it protects you out there anyway.”

Fareeha smiles warmly at her. Now, she is the one squirming away from the soldier’s gaze. They fall into a comfortable silence until Angela breaks it.

“It’s not the same one Ana had, is it?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on Fareeha’s part, and then: “I- no. It isn’t.”

Angela notices Fareeha’s mood dropping at the mention of her mother, her head lowering a bit (but stance still rigid – she’s on duty, after all). The doctor curses herself internally.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t of brought her up.”

“No, no, it’s okay, Angela,” Fareeha reassures her immediately. “It’s just…”

The soldier bites her lip and Angela stays quiet, knowing she’s debating to whether go on or not. After a few seconds of observing her anxiously run her hand through her hair, Fareeha finally speaks up.

“My mother… she’s not dead, Angela.”

Angela’s eyes widen at the confession, mouth agape. Fareeha sighs.

“I know, it’s hard to believe. She sent me a letter a year ago.”

“That’s… how?” asks Angela, still in shock.

“Does it matter?” says Fareeha, tone bitter. “Alive all those years, not daring to even tell her daughter.”

Angela reaches out to squeeze Fareeha’s free hand – the one without the automatic rifle – comfortingly. The soldier seems to appreciate it, because she squeezes back.

“I’m sorry,” says Angela. “I’m sure she had her reasons, though. There’s not much else I can offer right now, Fareeha. I grieved her too,” adds the doctor sadly. “Thank you for telling me.”

Fareeha sighs. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “At least she’s still alive, I guess.”

Angela nods. “You still have a right to be mad.”

Their hands are still linked and none of them make a move to pull away. Fareeha rubs her thumb over Angela’s knuckles, thankful for the doctor’s support. A comfortable silence surrounds them both until Angela yawns suddenly.

“Time for you to get your sleep, doctor,” says Fareeha, looking at her with a warm smile on her face.

“I guess so,” agrees Angela.

Feeling bold, Angela simultaneously tugs Fareeha down by their still intertwined hands and raises up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on the soldier’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Fareeha.”

Angela sleeps peacefully, nightmare-free, with the image of a flustered Fareeha bidding her goodnight engraved in her mind.

*** __  
  


Angela sighs, running a hand through her sweaty hair. It has been a particularly exhausting morning, with more than a dozen injured locals coming in to get treatment. She and Angelo are currently enjoying a brief break, resting their bodies on one of the examination tables. She takes a moment to appreciate the lives they have saved today, and thinks about those they have lost. She feels burnt out, but she knows there is still a lot of day left.

“So,” starts Angelo casually. “When are you going to ask Fareeha out?”

Angela chokes with the piece of apple she was currently eating, surprised. She coughs under the amusing gaze of her brother.

“What?” she finally manages to say.

Angelo rolls his eyes. “Please, Angie, I know you.”

There had definitely been more lingering gazes, more flirty touches between Fareeha and herself, but she hadn’t though beyond that yet. Should she make a move? She shouldn’t have allowed to get herself close to Fareeha in the first place, anyway.  _As if you could help it,_  she thinks to herself.

“I don’t know, Ange,” she says, deciding not to deny anything. “It’s complicated.”

“There’s nothing complicated about it,” retorts Angelo, gaze softened. “You like each other. She makes you happy. Just go for it.”

“Maybe.”

She doesn’t add anything else and she’s thankful to her brother for not pushing the topic further. They engage in a light conversation then, which is interrupted by the tent door flapping open.

Fareeha approaches them, full Raptora suit on – except the helmet, which she carries on her right hand. Her left hand, however, is grasping a young kid’s shoulder.

“Come on,” she coaxes the child gently. “I know someone who can fix that right up for you.”

Angela breathes a little easier upon realising the kid only has a minor injury; an ugly deep cut on his arm that looks more serious than it is.

“This is Samir,” Fareeha introduces the kid to them. “He fell and cut his arm.”

Angelo goes down to his height, smile on his face. He takes one of the many candies he keeps stored on his coat for when they have to deal with children (Angela wishes it wasn’t so often). Her brother smiles at Samir, offering him the candy. The kid takes it sheepishly.

“I have the perfect bandage for that little cut,” says Angelo, now up to his height again.

Angelo offers his hand to Samir, who takes it after Fareeha nods at him with a smile on her face. Once her brother and Samir are out of sight, Fareeha sighs. Angela can feel the weariness radiating off of her.

“Rough day?”

“You could say that,” answers the soldier. “We’re having trouble with the gang war. They’re too close to the camp. We can’t risk it, there are too many injured here.”

“Are you going to engage with them?” asks Angela, frowning.

They haven’t had many real problems that HSI had to seriously take care of for the few months they’ve been working with them. It makes her anxious to think of Fareeha actually doing her job out there, even though she knows it shouldn’t.

“If we need to,” says Fareeha.

“Just… be careful?”

Fareeha smiles warmly at her. “Always.”

Angela sighs, the confident answer not doing anything to ease her worries. She’s about to respond, when Saleh’s frantic call of his captain interrupts their short conversation.

“Duty calls,” says Fareeha. “See you later, Angela,” she adds confidently, before putting her helmet on.

Later, when Tariq and Tanisha come barging into the tent carrying a barely conscious Fareeha, Angela feels her heart rise in her throat. Her helmet’s visor is broken, the glass shattered. There is a deep wound on her stomach that keeps on pouring out blood and for the first time in many years, the sight almost makes Angela vomit.

Her hands don’t shake when she takes off Fareeha’s helmet, but they do when they start to strip off her armour plate and they come off bloody.

Angelo is on her in an instant, gently taking Angela’s hands off the soldier’s body.

“No,” she says sharply. “Let me do it!”

Angelo grasps her trembling shoulders firmly. “Angie, you’re shaking all over. You can’t.”

She inhales deeply, looking back at the bed where the nurses are making fast work of undressing Fareeha. She shakes her head, willing her body to stop shaking. Her mind reminds her that she’s a professional but the rest of her focuses on Fareeha’s bleeding body, on Fareeha’s weak pulse, on Fareeha’s torn helmet.  _Fareeha, Fareeha, Fareeha._

“I will take care of this,” Angelo says, tone soft, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She finally nods, because she trusts Angelo. She trusts Angelo, she tells herself, as she observes her brother preparing the soldier for surgery, barking orders to the nurses. She trusts Angelo, she repeats, like a mantra, to distract herself from Fareeha’s closed eyes, from Fareeha’s damaged suit laying in front of her feet.  _Fareeha, Fareeha, Fareeha._

 _Please,_  she prays, she hopes, she begs to whomever will hear,  _do not take her away from me._

***

Fareeha takes three days to wake up and Angela does not rest easy. Angelo tries to relax her, but it doesn’t work, so he tells her to call Jesse. Angela admits it was a good idea; Jesse always had an easy way of making her laugh, no matter the situation. And he does, at least for the while they talk. She appreciates the distraction.

(She knows Jesse is concerned about Fareeha, too, underneath all the jokes, so she makes a note to let him know whenever she wakes up.)

And when Fareeha wakes up, it is to Angela gently playing with her fingers.

“Well, hello,” says the solider, voice hoarse. She clears her throat.

Angela startles at the sound. “Fareeha!”

She hugs the soldier, taking care not to put too much pressure on the side of the wound. Fortunately, the bullet hadn’t reached any vital organs, but she still had two fractured ribs and a broken wrist, along with a concussion that turned to be less grave than first thought of. They had found some kind of biotic component in her blood, that had helped Fareeha regenerate faster. She will have to look at that later.

She feels Fareeha chuckle and raise her good hand to caress Angela’s hair. Angela sighs contentedly, breathing in Fareeha’s scent. She’s so relieved she could cry. When she pulls away, she’s not surprised to note her eyes are watery.

“No crying,” says Fareeha, reaching up to wipe a lone tear on the older woman’s cheek.

“Sorry,” laughs Angela softly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Fareeha hums in acknowledgement. Her hand is still on Angela’s face, cupping it. Her touch is rough, but Angela loves it.

“Angela,” says Fareeha. Angela raises an eyebrow in question. “Go out with me.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” agrees the doctor easily, because  _fuck it_ , if not now, then when?

Fareeha’s dopey smile blinds her for a second and she laughs, leaning down to plant a brief peck on her lips. She laughs some more when the soldier leans up, looking to deepen the kiss.

“No,” Angela says, “take me out to dinner first.”

She reaches up to cover Fareeha’s hand – still cupping her cheek – with her own, and her smile turns impossibly wider at Fareeha’s answer.

“I intend to, doctor.”

They make it work. Eventually, they are deployed to different places, but one year turns into two, and two turns into three, and they are together when Winston’s recall message reaches them.

_2077._

Angelo leaves for Gibraltar the day after they see Winston’s message. Angela can’t blame him; the world is tearing itself apart again, and nothing they do seems enough. She is still wary of rejoining, though, and says as much to Fareeha.

“It will be different this time,” her girlfriend reassures her, one evening, in their small apartment in Zürich.

“How do you know?”

It’s been a week since Angelo joined the new Overwatch, and he says Lena and Jesse are already there. There are a few other new agents, but they aren’t a full on organization yet.

“I don’t,” admits Fareeha. “I’m just saying we could try.”

“The way things ended last time…” starts Angela. She doesn’t need to finish.

Fareeha steps closer to her, wrapping her arms around Angela’s waist. The doctor welcomes the comforting touch.

“ _I_ wasn’t in Overwatch last time, was I?”

That makes the corners of her lips twitch up. “No, you weren’t.”

“Maybe it’s a chance to repair past mistakes,” Fareeha says, more seriously this time.

Angela bites her lip, thinking it over. Rejoining Overwatch could either go very wrong or very right, but she’s not sure she’s ready to face the risk.

“Just think about it,” adds the younger woman, when she sees her girlfriend isn’t going to answer.

Angela nods and she closes her eyes at the soft kiss Fareeha plants on her forehead.

Two weeks later, she finds herself on a plane on her way to Gibraltar, grasping Fareeha’s hand in her own, because after all, Fareeha is home, and wherever she goes, Angela will follow.

**Author's Note:**

> so it's 2am, and none beta'd so i'm really sorry for any mistakes. pls tell me what you thought, i actually worked hard on this lmao! thanks for reading!  
> thinking of doing a second part from Fareeha's POV, which would be mostly all new since i'm just really interested in the dynamic she would of had with gabriel and jack and reinhardt, but yeah.  
> [find me on tumblr tumblr!](http://hawkebela.tumblr.com/)


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